A Journey Through Darkness

Copyright © 2010 by Margareth Maganga.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2010914292

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4535-8523-8

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4535-8522-1

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4535-8524-5

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Even if I go through the deepest darkness, I will not be afraid, LORD, for you are with me. Your shepherd’s rod and staff protect me.

PSALMS 23:4

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Part one

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Acknowledgements

Glory be to God, for He never abandoned me—even when it was darkness all around me and fears within.

So much love and thanks to my father, Paschal Maganga, for his tireless dedication to pay all my medical bills and for the love, prayers and encouragement. For reassuring me of his endless love and giving me hope when my faith had quivered. My mother, Jane Paschal, for being my best friend; lending me a listening ear throughout all the rough and unexplainable moments. No one has ever given more loving and valuable support than I have been given by you. Were it not for you, I doubt if I would have made it this far. I love you infinitely.

A special thanks to my brothers, Evarist for his confidence, inspiration and tenacity, Raphael for getting all his friends all over the world to keep me in their prayers, and Lucky for using my testimony to candidates as an encouragement to believe in the power of prayer. To the three of you, I have always loved you, still do and always will. To my cousins Agnes and Aneth thank you for always being there to provide a shoulder to lean on. Without forgetting Exaud (Chaya) Thomas for being my ‘personal secretary’ and helping me keep in touch with all my friends while in hospital.

Big thanks to my aunt, Anna Mukami, for her support and great hospitality while in Washington DC and my uncle, Peter Maganga, for accommodating us during our entire stay in Massachusetts and encouraging his friends to pay as visits during that period. My sincerest gratitude to the entire community of Tanzanians and Kenyans living in Massachusetts whose support and spirit of togetherness made us feel welcome in their community especially Virginia Mugure, Lydia, Jamal Rajin, Geliga, Casmille, Lindiwe Hume and Yvonne Mugure just to mention a few.

Many thanks to Justice Dr. S.J. Bwana of the Court of Appeal of Tanzania, for always encouraging me to study law, and his beloved family (especially Tina), and the entire family of Mrs. Loyce Nyalali; James Andrew Bwana; Lucas Mashauri; Perusy Nyakila; Joseph Obeto; Mrs. Angelina Manko; Mrs. Judith Joshua; Mrs. Nellie Keya; Hon. S. Kalonzo Musyoka, the Vice President of Kenya; B.K.Sikudhan, together for their support, advice, generosity and regular visits during my hospitalization.

Thanks to Kenneth Limen, for all his support, suggestions, motivation, encouragement, and friendship to my family, especially during the time of my ordeal and even after.

Thanks to the entire community of the Kenya High school, particularly my best friends, Georgina Amayo, Charlene Migwe and Betsy Keya, for their constant love, encouragement and true friendship, and my teacher, Miss Leah Tuimur for being my first point of contact at the school and for her support and prayers.

Thanks to my friends at the University of Leeds; Trish Rodrigues, Hira Jamal, Hamad Al-Musfir, Farhan Shafee, Mark Odhiambo, Tanveer Mansur, Omair Jamal and Azy Aziz for assisting me in adapting to my new lifestyle when I needed it most.

Thanks to my tutor Dr. Tom Hawes for editing the manuscript and always encouraging me to achieve my goals in school. Many thanks also to Dr. Anna Mdee for her positive feedback after going through the manuscript.

Many thanks to Pr. Sando, Pr. Sinda, Pr. Ngusa and Pr. Machage for your dedicated prayers, the Iringo SDA Church, for your songs of encouragement, and Leeds SDA Church, for welcoming me into your fellowship family.

Many thanks to the management and staff of Comprehensive Community Based Rehabilitation in Tanzania, especially Dr. Richard Bowman for his devotion in the fight against blindness; UMass Memorial Medical Centre, especially Dr. Julie Pilitsis for using her gifted hands in trying to restore my vision; and Leeds University Transcription Centre for providing me with reading and learning materials to help me work independently and achieve my full potential.

And, finally, to all those who have not been mentioned, but have in so many ways helped me to be where I am right now, thank you ever so much.

Introduction

Many of us may live our lives without ever stopping to think ‘What if I couldn’t see?’ We hardly ever ask ourselves this question because, to say the least, we take our eyes for granted.

I, like most people, had never thought about it until January 11, 2008. My mother came to wake me up that Friday morning and asked me what I was still doing in bed and confidently I replied, Because it is still dark outside mum. In her astonishment she told me it was 8am and the sun was shining bright (a typical African morning!). I rubbed my eyes, opened them wider but it was still dark. I yelled out, I can’t see! I can’t see! I wept day in, day out, but the distress and its pain became mute with time. Darkness—unforgiving, uncomfortable, endless, it was something that played on and caused a nuisance to my life of just nineteen years. Upon seeking treatment, I was diagnosed with pseudotumor celebri—a rare disorder of unknown etiology found predominantly in obese women of childbearing age caused by chronically elevated intracranial pressure in the brain. It was bizarre, especially for my family and friends, but for me, that was the beginning of a long journey through a forest of darkness, where the bright full moon and the stars had been extinguished; leaving my world dark and uncertain.

I started writing A journey through darkness in March 2008, after being inspired by Richard Moore, founder and director of Children in Crossfire. Richard’s work is all the more remarkable given that he himself was blinded at the age of ten after a rubber bullet was fired at point blank range into his face. In some, such an event might have left bitterness, but in Richard, it left a desire to help others. Imagining myself to have grown up beautifully, then suddenly finding myself visually impaired, and worse, made me believe that I could also help others by writing a book. The idea was that £1 from every copy sold would be donated to support education for the visually challenged primary school students as they gain entry into secondary schools in East Africa, giving them the best possible chance of an independent future. The book is also to inspire you dear reader and to give hope to those with none left. It is to reveal God’s constant love and mercy towards His people—believers and non-believers.

I started getting up in the wee hours, sitting by my dressing table, trying to remember as much as I could then putting my thoughts down in a genuine bonded leather flex journal. The writing process was a huge obstacle as my eyes were completely out of my immediate line of vision, which made me drop the writing for a while until I enrolled at the University of Leeds in September 2008. There I found Leeds University Transcription Centre which provided me with essential visual aids for my reading and learning.

My writing picked up speed. Nearly every night after returning from university, I sat by my study desk writing a sentence or two. Months went by, but I kept to my routine until I finally completed the writing in December 2009 and kept the manuscript in a safe place waiting for the right moment for it to be born. That came in January 11, 2010, exactly two years after the original incident, when my brother, Evarist was convinced I should give him the manuscript to type it out and give it to his friend who he thought could help me edit it for publication. That started the process that ends with the book you hold in your hands.

The story I have written here is an honest account of a particularly trying moment of my life and the dialogue is an approximation of what was actually said to me. Some of the characters that appear are various people I have known, and some events appear out of exact chronology. Therefore, with the exception of my family, the names of most of people have been changed out of respect for their privacy.

Nonetheless, it is to my family that I dedicate this book. I hope you get as much pleasure and inspiration out of reading about them and that every page brings you closer to understanding the love and respect I feel for them.

Part one

IT WAS A SPARKLING SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 2008, the sun out in full force, the sky a limpid blue in the beautiful city of Taipei, Taiwan. It was the final day of the World Youth Conference for Adventist Youth. Young people from across oceans and continents convened for the conference. From Tanzania we were a delegation of approximately thirty-eight. To us, that was a large number but not as large as the South Koreans who were in hundreds. As the day wore on, I started feeling feverish, and then there was muscle pain growing bit by bit around my neck. Not wanting to look unwell, I ignored the pain and tried to keep an outward façade of cheerfulness. Of course I was deceiving no one but myself as I was bleeding inside and this intensified pain became unbearable at noon. Even the constant flow of tears could not wash it away. I had asked for some pain killers which only soothed the pain for a while.

The events of the day came to a finale at around 9pm. As we fumbled around looking for buses, others exchanged contacts, recalling how that one week had been a great time for many youths. I entered my bus not interested in getting any form of contacts (pause there; this is Maggie the extrovert we are talking about!) Whenever I meet new people I always make sure I leave with enough contacts to make me buy a new phone book! My friends in high school can testify to that. I didn’t believe what was happening to me—this time, the fever had increased, my head was throbbing, and my neck was experiencing the most excruciating pain I have ever had. In the bus I couldn’t get a comfortable position on my seat to rest my head on. The journey from the conference centre to the hostel was almost one hour but it felt like an eternity.

When we finally reached the hostel I got out of the bus still feeling weak. Dorcas, also from Tanzania, was there to help me when I almost fell to the ground after losing my balance. She later asked me what was wrong. This time, I couldn’t lie that I was well while I wasn’t. I wept in frustration as I told her of the headache that I had—so bad that at that particular moment I wished I had not lived, but it was a sort of migraine that assured me I would continue to suffer but not die. She called Mary, my roommate and together they helped me to my room. Dorcas volunteered to give me a neck massage, which sadly didn’t help. I took another pain killer but that was no good either.

As my condition worsened, one of my friends alerted our youth leaders who had accompanied us to the conference. I was lying on my back on my bed when in a short time my room flocked with well wishers. Some of the friends I had made during the week came too. After a short discussion the leaders decided that I should be rushed to the hospital. Perhaps, that is why they say, ‘the older the wiser,’ since the thought had not crossed my mind the entire time. The hostel staff called for a taxi as I trailed down the lobby. One of the friends I had made, Dean, an Australian, was shocked to see me in that state because during the day he had seen me full of life. He wanted to accompany me to the hospital but the taxi couldn’t take all of us.

I went with Mary and one other hostel staff member. The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. When we arrived the doctor questioned me about my symptoms. I tried